The Orb of souls
by ChaosPixel
Summary: Following Or'gul, an Orc warrior and how his world is changing.
1. Chapter 1

His face was so close to the grass, that he could almost smell the dew that slowly settled on the ground around him. Both hands were dug into the mud and struggled to hold the weight of his large Orc body, that silently screamed to lay down in a fatigue defeat. But pride, rage and adrenalin stopped him from collapsing onto the semi wet grass and mud. Time had seemed to stop as he took a deep breath. Slowly in and out. The chest hurt under the thick armor for each gap of air that was inhaled. Or'gul clenched his hand around the axes muddy shaft and looked at his shield, which was laying only few meters away. He could hear the Ogre struggling to keep a clear mind, he did get a few good swing at it before he got punched to the ground.

The Ogre started to move, in a slow but determined pace towards the iron handled club that he had dropped not so long ago, before Or'guls axe had cut some of the fingers, on its hand.

There was no more time to rest, he pushed himself up in a sitting position and firmly closed his hand around the axe. Then he leaped forward to his shield and with the other hand picked it up. The Ogre had reached the club and swung it from side to side a few times. The twilight had settled and was so quiet, that not even a wind could be felt. The tranquility was broken, as the Ogre, now back in its clear mind and also feeling the wounds, let out a loud roar and stormed towards him. Or'gul put one leg firmly into the soil and raised the shield, so it hid half of his face. He observed every move the Ogre took, as it came towards him, its every step and every movement. The club got raised high in the air, as he tighten the grip of the shield, if he lost it again, he would be beaten to death, so there were no room for error this time. He already underestimated the Ogre once and that would not happen again.

Even though, he was prepared for the impact from the club on his shield, the pure force of the blow, still came down on him with more power than he had foreseen, like a boulder from a mountain top and he almost lost it a second time. With pure luck, the shield bend down over his back and some of his head and equaled the balance to a point where the hand didn't bend the wrong way and the club slide down behind him, leaving the ogre in an open and undefended position. With his free hand, Or'gul swung the axe upwards, cleaving open the Ogres soft chest and right arm. A loud whimper and cry followed by another as he chopped off half its foot, and another as he pushed with all his strength towards his opponent with the shield. The blood sprayed everywhere, the air filled with the metallic stench, as he felt it drip from his hand and face.

As the Ogre fell to the ground, Or'gul just followed along, he was fatigue and sore and a burning wound on the right lower arm took rest of the energy he had left. As a clumsy toddler he fell onto the Ogres soft, fat body with only the shield between them, but gravity was not done yet, the shield tipped to the side and along with Or'gul and the both ended face down, in a mix of blood and mud.

He just stayed there after rolling onto his back, too tired to move, the body hurt and his ears were still ringing along with his left hand, from the mighty clang on the shield from the Ogres club. He really hated them, they were big, dumb, inbred and a disgrace to his race. A bird slowly crossed the sky high above him. A few minutes he watched it sore around in lazy movements. A burp and the sound of bubbles through blood, woke him from the daze. He jumped up in a fast motion and cleaved half the Ogres face with his axe. Parts of the ear, teeth and brain flew to all sides, before a large chunk of the head fell down and tipped over, revealing everything, it had inside it. Refreshed from the adrenalin he picked up the shield and pushed it onto his back. The axe got strapped to the belt. He looked at the Ogres bloody body.

❝Ar, you stink, you big inbred baby. Doubt you got anything useful on you. Bet you probably couldn't recognize gold from a spoon.❞

He felt the sides of the body, the fat jiggled each time his big Orc hand slapped it in a searching pattern, lifting bloody linen parts to search for a pouch or hidden weapons.

❝Nothing, what a surprise, your kind are completely useless.❞

With a tired look, he glanced a last time upon the corpse, then turned and walked south.

❝May the maggots and crows have better luck with you.❞

It had turned dark now, the moon was mostly hidden behind heavy clouds and there was the smell of rain in the air. In the distance were mountains and shattered trees on the great plain, of which he was walking. Or'gul had spend days traveling before he had stumbled upon the Ogre. Not sure what it had been doing alone in the wilderness. Hunger or lack of brain must have made it attack him. He wouldn't know, they were fat pigs on two legs. They would properly think they lost a finger, if they stuck it up their nose. He shivered as a cold breeze swept across the landscape. A glimpse caught his eye in the distance, flickering light far away between the trees.

Were there is a fire, there may usually be a camp. He stopped, looking around him, he only saw the mountains he had crossed not so many days ago in the distance. A forest with old trees and the plain stretching out for miles. The flickering light once again caught his eye. In a silent complaint, his stomach growled at him. He had to take this chance to find food. His sack was nearly empty there wasn't a lot of water left either. He took out his axe and changed direction, towards the trees and light.

As he came closer he could see movement between the trees, large silhouettes.

…Ogres, at least four of them. The one he met earlier had to be a scout, hunting for food or searching for easy victims. He went closer, sneaking around in the dark like a clumsy ninja. The wind were in his favor, as it rattled the trees and leafs, masking his heavy footsteps in the dark. He could smell meat roasting over fire, the Ogres were grunting and talking in low voices. There was three of them, two sitting by the fire, and the last one going through a pile of things, backpacks, weapons, bottles and sacks.

❝Nasta'ul shoul' be bak by nuw, hows hard can it bi, to clob a few wabbits? I bet your retar'ed brother fell asleip again.❞

He let out a dry laughter. The Ogre sitting across the fire, looked up and glared at the other. He picked up a stick from the ground and threw it over the fire and hit the other Ogre center in the face.

❞You shoul' talk, who wase the one tu get so dronk in human wines, that you got Taasnaz w'unded in thi last raid?❝ While padding the sore spot from the stick, the Ogre clenched a fist at the other.

❞Throw another, and wes will be one lesz to share thi loots.❝

The Ogre picked up another stick, and with little afford from the short space across the fire, he hit him again, this time on the jaw. He let out a roar and like a fat baby, slowly and clumsy stood up.

❞You son of a mot'erless goat!❝

He threw himself over the fire, knocking over the roasting meat and they both landed on the ground and started fighting. Or'gul saw his moment to act, as the third one had his focused on the fight. He snuck around the trees and came up behind the lonely Ogre. He pulled out a dagger from the belt and went up behind him. Half hidden in the shadows, he grabbed the head and covered the mouth as he violently jabbed the dagger into the neck and upwards in the Ogres head. There was a short reaction where he tried to scream silently, and the arms fought an invisible fight with the air. The foot kicked a bag of bottles and the loud sound of bottles hitting each other, woke the other two from the fight.

They both looked right at Or'gul, half in the shadows with their dead friends head in his hand. He pulled out the dagger slowly, he felt the blood running over the blade and onto his hands, as it got pulled back out. He let go of the Ogres head, that fell to the ground with a crack.

❞You kill Grubb!❝

The Ogre laying at the bottom, fought to push off the one on top, who fought to try and have a hand free to push himself up, both canceling out each others efforts.

❞Lay still, you drunkenly donkey!❝

-Yelled the top one. He got free and stood up, reaching for a club hidden in the tall grass. The other rolled over with the elegance like a wounded walrus, and stood up too. Or'gul walked back into the shadows, zig zagging in between the trees. He could hear the two Ogres roar in anger and hitting bushes and trees as they started to hunt him down. He picked up a big branch and threw it into a tree, a few meters away. The branch breaking against the hard tree structure, gave a loud smash in the small forest. He turned and ran to a tree nearby and hid there.

He heard heavy feet running through the lush growth, the angry snorts and frustrating howls, gave it away it had to be one of the Ogres. It ran past the tree he hid behind and towards the broken branch. With a loud yell, Or'gul ran towards the Ogre. He swung the axe in a violent movement, but the ogre was quicker than he anticipated. The club hit his axe and broke off the axes direction so it missed the target. He felt the ogres fist, punch him in the face, followed by the club sweeping his legs. Or'gul fell hard onto the ground, he lost his air, but still managed to roll to the side, avoiding a fat foot from crushing his skull into the ground.

He raised the axe, parrying a hard hit from the club. Quickly he roll onto his side and got up. He was standing face to face with the angry Ogre now. There was fury in its eyes and it was at least, a head and a half bigger than him. With a bashing motion, Or'gul tried to hit the ogre with his shield, forcing the wanted defense in return. The Ogre blocked the shield with his club, lowering the reaction to avoid him, to strike with the axe. And as foreseen, the axe slashed of the Ogres hand, still holding the club. Blood sprayed onto the shield, and the it gave out a roar in pain and surprise. The second hit opened up its thigh and the Ogre fell to his knees.

❞Your kind, are the jokes of this world❝

Or'gul hissed and ended the Ogre, with a last hit from the axe. It's head rolled into a bush nearby and the body fell to the side and laid still. Or'gul stood still, listening for the other one, that had to be close, there was no way it could have overhear the noise from battle. But there was nothing, the night had fallen silent once again. With his shield close to his body, and the axe rotating in his hand, he slowly walked back towards the camp and tent. He watched everything, looking for a shadow, movement or anything that could give away the location, from which it was hiding. But there was nothing. Birds in the distance and the wind sweeping across the landscape, rattling the tress, was the only thing he could hear. He walked to the fire and picked up the roasted meat. It looked like a part of a boar, it was nearly perfect, though the side that had laid towards the fire was a little crisp and burned on the surface. Or'gul started to eat, one fist full of meat became another and another until he could hardly close his mouth. He was chewing. Only now realizing how hungry he was. He saw the Ogres foot among the bottles and open sack, his eye caught one small barrel with a dwarven logo on it.

❞Beer!❝

Or'gul smiled from ear to ear. He dug in the pile and pulled out the miniature barrel, pushing away the limp foot. It was still full. He felt a joy and cracked it open with his dagger. Oh, the beer tasted so good with the meat. Sitting alone by the fire, he burped loudly and giggled in joy. The tough Orc warrior felt like a child, who got handed his first weapon. The moment was perfect.

After he had done eating and emptied the beer, he sat and felt the warmth from the flames. Looking around the camp, he discovered how big a mess it was. Stuff was laying everywhere, they must have been stationed here for at least a week. A thought came to his head, in the pure chaos of everything, and the relentless hunger, he never even thought about checking the tent. It was quite big and pelt waved lazy back and forth, blocking his view of what may be in side of it. He grabbed his Axe and walked around the fire. Slowly closing in on the entrance. He stopped. There were still nothing to hear, the silence was annoying him. There was still an Ogre missing.

❞Useless creature, that motherless goat, probably ran off, damn coward!❝

He mumbled under his breath.

He poked the pelt hanging off the wooden poll in an iron hook. Nothing. He wasn't sure if he had thought it would pop of and attack him. The pelt got pushed aside by the large Axe blade, and foul smell, hit him in the face.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 : Surprise!

Dusted was sitting at a table, on the first floor, at a inn in the northern part of the city Ogrimmar. Here there, wasn't a lot of people, as at the other ones near the gate. He was a Goblin, he felt the inhabitants of this city, looked at him, in a way he really disliked. He was not new to the label as an outsider, and he was okay with it, really. So to keep a distance from other beings, he quickly learned the less crowded places to crash in. A guy, a red haired Troll, named Gravy, was attending the bar and serving the few costumers in this little wooden establishment. The inn-keeper was at the door, welcoming who ever snuck into this bar, that smelled of barrels and liquids. He took a sip from the ale in his mug, and looked at his demon companion. Azranix was a blue voidlord. Pretty much the silent type, and more for show, than pleasant accompanier.

Dusted spend a few minutes just looking at him, the voidlord stood still, like he had fallen asleep, or he brain just had stopped working. He picked up a peanut and threw it at him. It bounced of the head, just atop the bright white eyes. Azranix awoke from his daze and before the peanut fell to the floor, he had grabbed it and crushed it to a dusty paste. To his owners amusement, the sticky peanut paste stuck to his hand, shacking it wildly, like, if a slimy booger had stuck it self to his thumb. With a low growl, it gathered its hands in front of one another, and a purple flame of anguish melted the little green challenge on his hand. As if nothing had happened, he stood still once again, and seemed like a breathing statue.

❞You have to be my.. at least, my third worst date, ever!❝

Dusted looked at Azranix, and snapped his finger. The bluish demon fainted into oblivion from where he came with a fading swooshing sound. The event had gathered a few curious looks from down stairs. A Orc and a blood elf, sitting by a table in the opposite side of the inn, was looking up at him and watching it all happened. Dusted emptied the rest of his ale.

❞Yeah, the bitch wouldn't put out, I mean, at least give a little if I buy you a drink, right?❝

In reaction, by looking at their ales and returning to their conversation, it was clearly they didn't have a sense of humor. And he went down stairs and out the door. It was hot, dusty and noisy in the Valley Of Honor. An Pandaren monk was at the small red mailbox, just out side, checking a letter with interest. Dusted walked, semi jumped, down the steps and with a nudge bumped into the panda bear.

❞I'm so sorry, little too much ale, and my pet just broke up with me. So I don't feel all sane and in the right balance, you know.. Zen.. zone..❝

❞...❝

❞*Burp*❝

The Pandaren looked at him with a glare and scoffed. Dusted looked into the ground, as if he was embarrassed. Seemed like the monk bought his humbled and humiliated. He had parked his blue proto-drake in a corner to the right, behind the Inn and quickly walked to it. The big blue drake recognized him as he came closer.

❞I'm pretty sure there was a horse next to you. That Paladin inside the Inn came shortly after we did?❝

There was a dangling robe, hanging from the binders pole, slowly moving from side to side as the wind, played with it. Now the end was chewed off and four bloody hooves was all that was left, to tell the tale of a horse.

❞Really? I can't leave any of you unattended.❝

He gently patted the drake and whispered..

❞I'm so proud of you!❝

The evening air felt good and refreshing, as the drake roar upwards into the sky. When it had stabilized it self and was heading towards the northern Barrens, he pulled out the pouch with gold from under his robe, it smelled like its former owner, like dirty Pandaren. He smiled as he took the gold coins into his own container, and with both arms in the air, let go of the empty pouch. He watched as it got caught in the wind and fell down towards the south-fury river He circled the spot a few times as it faded closer and closer to the ground, and then continued his journey. The stars was bright as he headed into the harsh territory, The Barrens was Orc country, the few contestants to the ongoing war was mostly local wild life or the infernal Alliance. If there ever was a race dumber than Orcs, it had to be humans. Maybe Gnomes, he felt kind of sorry for them though, he knew the life of being short, so the second place had the be Elves. Dusted shivered in the cold night air. Humans and Elves, what a waste of evolution. 

He flew past gigantic large razor sharp thorns, which roots twisted through the ground below. Home of the Razormanes. He had a few fond memories of Razormanes. Once with a group of friends, he had run into the camp at night, stealing artifacts and wands. The Razormanes Geomancers magic was useful, and could upgrade his own skills, as you kept practicing as a young warlock. The spikes on the tower at the crossroads was fading out of the darkness in front of him. Seemed like a good place to spend the night. The Kolkar Centaur clan was roaming the front lines at night, and he didn't feel like fighting the four legged freaks. The Tauren Boorand owned the Inn at The Crossroads, he knew Dusted as he often came to crash here, it was out in the open, and mostly visited by young adventures, who came to prove their worth. He would sit in the back, eating and over hearing tales from their 'grand journeys'.

Dusted was amused, but remembered his own upbringing, wasn't easy to be a hero in this world. If you didn't have the skills it takes, you would get chewed up, or clawed to death in a heartbeat. He had scars. Or so many, both from fair fights, and some from pure stupidity. We all learn differently, some a little slower than other. A Tauren and a Orc was trading deviate scales from the Waling Caverns. A good place to start, not a lot ever returned. It was said that the caverns was a place of dark magic and a serpent cult.

He bound the drake to a tree, far away from anyone else's mount, and headed towards the Inn. Someone already had two wolves at the usual stables. So to avoid another chewing, he placed the drake at safe distance. It wasn't always welcome to store mounts of his size at these small places. But Dusted loved his drake. The young adventures always starred at it, he even offered them to pat it, but once, a Troll druid just did something wrong. In return, to the horror of everyone, the dragon roared and chewed off his legs in front of everyone. As the screaming troll dropped to the ground, it sprayed him with blue toxin, melting the skin off the upper body and face, before swolloring the rest. It was super awkward. The druids friend got mad and threatening, and then the drake felt he was a threat too, and gave him the same care. It had cost Dusted hundreds of gold pieces to clean up the mess and not get banish from the area. After all, it wasn't really his fault. No one should ever touch another mans dragon, how come they didn't know better?..

He patted the drake and looked towards the smiths area. There was the Tauren head chief helping a young Orc melting copper bars. The sound of hammering and fire was a soothing sound. Civilized. He walked down the path to the Inn, inside was Boorand, talking to Larhka, who sold liquids. The Inn was fairly empty tonight. Larhka saw Dusted come in from the street and nodded his head in a greeting. Boorand turned and smiled.

❞Ah, I've been expecting you!❝

❞Good day, Boorand, how are you this fine evening?❝

The Tauren who was twice the hight of Dusted, patted him on the shoulder with his big hands.

❞I am very well, thank you. I just got some fresh meat roasting over the fire. Why don't you sit and I will bring you something!❝

Dusted smiled and squeezed his big Tauren finger.

❞That would be fantastic, dear friend. Thank you.❝

To the right was a small carving in the wall with a blanket, well fitting for his small body and typical his favorite place when he was at this Inn. Strings with beads hang from the wall, to spice up the place a bit, wasn't the most fantastic decor of all time, but it had a charming awkward feeling, and it was suiting him just fine. He threw his backpack into the corner, along with his pouch and sat down. The Inn smelled like roasted meat and sweat. Two pillows and a candle was all the luxuries in his little carving, It was not amazing, but he could sleep here and feel safe. The giant Tauren had never seemed to had any problems here, the Crossroads had guards, big dumb Orcs, but they were useful in fights. Boorand came towards Dusted with a plate of steaming meat and a mug full of Ale.

❞This smells amazing. Thank you.❝

Dusted took the plate and sat the mug down beside him and smiled at the big Tauren.

❞I do not have a lot of time to talk today, there has been sightings of the clan moving, every one is on alert tonight.❝

❞The clan? They wouldn't? This area is too well protected by the Orggies?❝

Boorand looked towards the entrance to the Inn, there was two Orcs in full armor out side, standing guard, Dusted noticed their looks gazing west more often than usually.

❞You are talking about the farms to the west, out side of the Crossroads?❝

Boorand turned his attention back to Dusted.

❞Yes, there has been sightings all day, the clan has been spying on the outskirt settlements. And that is not their normal behavior.❝

At that same moment, the guards started to yell, and the two guards standing out side began to run west. Dusted and Boorand looked at each other and ran to the entrance. Dusted grabbed his backpack and pouch and followed the Tauren with quick feet.

As he caught up to Boorand, he could see the flickering of fire and smoke in the horizon.

❞I will see if I can assist with anything!❝

Dusted ran to the drake that nervously stomped back and forth by the tree, and tried to swing the rope into its mouth and chew it, but the neck was too fat, and the robe kept hitting it on the jaw.

❞Are you serious? And where would you go without me?❝

The drake gave a series of minor roars and looked at him, as if he had completely understood the sentence.

❞Right, you are a fearless dwagon, so dangerous. You can't even get out of the hook in your collar.. How woul...❝

The drake hissed at him, then turned its head towards the tree. A cloud of toxic liquids hit the tree, the robe and some of the surrounding grass. Everything started to burn and melt, the rope fell flat to the ground, It all gave a sound, like boiling water.

❞Oh, okay.. So.. You were just being nice and played nice. Well.. I apologize!❝

He patted the dragon and strapped the backpack to the side of the saddle, then put the pouch inside his robe.

❞We need to move, the people need our assistance.❝

The mighty tree broke in on it self as the trunk began to melt inwards and tipped the balance. It fell over and blocked the road, as he took to the night sky. Clouds had gathered and the night had turned more dark than before. There was a smell of rain in the air. He liked it, natures way of washing away the filth of the world. On the surface anyway.

As they came near, he could see the clan had moved into the settlements and a war was going on, Orcs fighting Centaurs. Everything was in complete chaos, few buildings was on fire. In the distance he could see a Centaur, a bit bigger than the others and yelling orders.

❞So, how about we find you a new chew toy, boy.❝

He set a patch across the battlefield and towards the mystical Centaur in the distance. A arrow flew past him in a fairly close proximity with a angry hissing sound. He looked down and saw a few Centaur archers, that had spotted him.

❞Dammit, we need to move higher.❝

He kicked the dragon and pulled on the leather straps, the dragon took a lazy swing with the wings, but not fast enough. One arrow cleaved the saddle and broke loose the locking mechanism to the straps going under the dragon, holding the saddle in place. As the dragon took a new swing to gain altitude, the saddle moved and almost threw Dusted out in the air. He grabbed on to the handle in the seat, tipping the dragon which started to fly south east. They rushed over the Waling Caverns and further past the oasis.

❞Dammit, stop moving and get me down, you useless bag of scales!❝

The tree tops started to hit Dusteds feet, as they flew in an insane speed through the air, His hands began to slip as he struggled to hang tight. The sweat from pure panic and fatigue, made his tiny Goblin hands slippery.

One last branch lashed his ass and in pure surprise, he let go to protect the hurting area, with a scream like a little girl, he fell into the thin air and rushed towards the ground. He crashed through a tree and landed on a tent, which ripped open from the speed of his body and smashed into a pile of skin, cloth and thin wooden crates. Every part of the body hurt, and oh the smell, like something had died and laid eggs that had gone rotten. In a slow motion and moaning, he turned around, laying flat on his belly. He took a look around, the tent was damp and dark, only a faint moonlight came in the same way he had, only a moment before. Then he noticed, at the entrance to the tent, stood an Orc, with an axe in his hand, half opened the pelts that functioned as a door, and with a surprised look on his dumb green face.


End file.
